where wildly different is perfectly normal
Hey! The humidity! There is none!
Hey! The humidity! There is none!

Hey! The humidity! There is none!

What is this? I believe it is called lack of humidity. I have named the humidity in Orlando “Sheldon.” Sheldon the Humidity. It was so present I felt it needed a name. He was a real pain in the butt, now known as The Gutter…as in, where all the back sweat drains. Such a pleasant sensation. Ahhh….humidity-free bliss here in Colorado.

We’re home.

I have downloaded and preliminarily sorted 585 emails.

I am staring down 1120 unread posts in Google Reader (heh…riiiiiight…ain’t gonna read ’em all).

I am on my third load of laundry.

I have picked up a book on hold from the library.

I have retrieved my dog from her week of debauchery and spoiling the woman who was watching her.

I have unpacked.

I have made iced tea.

I have roughly planned out the week, and have given thanks every 10 minutes that Tom took tomorrow off too.

I shall return shortly.

If not, send a search party, the mail probably buried me.

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